


Water in my lungs

by Banashee



Series: Bad Things Happen Bingo ROUND 2 [8]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Hawkeye (Comics), The Avengers - Ambiguous Fandom
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Bucky Barnes Gets a Hug, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Established Relationship, Flashbacks, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Torture, M/M, Mind Control Aftermath & Recovery, Panic Attacks, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Protective Clint Barton, Trauma, Waterboarding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-27
Updated: 2021-01-27
Packaged: 2021-03-11 22:53:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,650
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29000250
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Banashee/pseuds/Banashee
Summary: “Can I ask you something?” Bucky asks after a while, and despite feeling rough and shaky, his voice doesn’t sound nearly as bad.“Of course.”“Have you ever drowned?”The fingers in his hair still for a moment and Bucky can hear the increased speed of his partner's heartbeat. Clint's answer, however, is completely calm.“Yes.”Bucky takes a deep breath, then he starts talking.-8/25: Water Torture
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Clint Barton
Series: Bad Things Happen Bingo ROUND 2 [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1981954
Kudos: 31





	Water in my lungs

**Author's Note:**

> Bad Things Happen Bingo - Round 2!  
> Originally, I had this aaaall planned out as a NaNoWriMo project, but I decited to scrap that. Instead, I'll just write little snippets for each prompt and safe the larger ideas for another time. I'll write them - one day...  
> *Looks at giant pile of unfinished ideads and projects*  
> *nervous laughter dissolving into desperate sobbing*  
> -
> 
> As always, I'm crossposting these stories on my Tumblr.  
> https://banashee.tumblr.com/
> 
> You can get your own Bingo Card over at  
> https://badthingshappenbingo.tumblr.com/
> 
> The cover for this fic was made with a free to use photo from Unsplash

****

****

**Water in my lungs**

He is drowning. Bucky is gasping for air, but it only fills his lungs with more ice cold water and his entire body goes rigid in panic. Something - or rather, somebody - holds him down, hand fisted painfully into his hair. They hold his arms, bound and twisted behind his back, flesh and metal alike. 

He is dying, he thinks. Part of him is scared, because choking on water is pure agony, but another part of him is in peace with it - it’s been too long and he is tired.

‘Please let it be quick’ he thinks, but then his head is being yanked back up and he is spluttering, coughing up water. His lungs are burning and his eyes are watering, and somebody snarls a question at him. He is unable to answer, still choking on water. 

Then his face is burning with the sensation of a heavy backhand against his ice cold, wet skin. Before he can get his bearings back, his head is shoved down again. Water is filling his lungs while he is screaming soundlessly, desperate for it to end. 

Bucky is breathing hard - it takes him a second to figure out why that is odd. There is water all around him and he is freezing, but he can breathe - his hands are free and he is not being held down by anyone. He can breathe - there is water, yes, but it doesn’t submerge him, and the only hands fisted in his hair are his own. 

With a shuddering breath, Bucky looks around himself - he is in a small bathroom, with ugly tiles and a fake plant in a corner, sitting in the shower. The running water has turned ice cold, and he figures that this is why he had a flashback in the first place. 

But the room is familiar - he is home. 

Forcing himself to breathe evenly, Bucky remains sitting where he is. 

Turning off the water would probably be smart, but it is incredibly hard to move. He doesn’t move away, despite shaking from the cold. Only when he hears the front door open and shut, Bucky unfolds and tries to get up from the floor. It takes him a few attempts to do so, and getting dressed takes even longer. He is bone-tired, and he knows it won’t take long for him to break. 

By the time Bucky has made it into the dark bedroom, he is beyond exhausted. His shaking hasn’t stopped entirely, and he is pretty sure that there are still dried up remains of snot and tears in his face, but he can’t find the energy to care. 

The bed is the closest surface, so he collapses onto it. A few inches next to him, Alpine wakes up from a deep sleep, blinks at Bucky and simply scoots closer, burrowing into him and purring like a little motor. 

Breathe, he keeps reminding himself, keep breathing. 

The noises of the apartment are washing over him. Bucky’s ears are better than most, and he can hear Clint moving around in their kitchen, packing away groceries, humming a faintly familiar tune and chatting away to Lucky. Lucky himself shuffles around as well, claws clicking on the floor. It’s a familiar and comforting soundscape, another sign that he is home, safe and loved. 

After a while, the noises from the kitchen stop and instead, steps are coming closer from the stairs and in front of the bedroom. 

Then, the door opens and Bucky doesn’t say anything - he wants to, but his voice doesn’t really work yet. Just a heartbeat later, a warm hand brushes his cheek and tucks away a strand of damp, cold hair. He leans into the touch, desperate for warmth and physical contact. 

“Hey, Babe. Are you okay? You’re freezing.” Clint asks him, and he sounds concerned. 

It’s all Bucky can do to shake his head - no, he is not okay. Not at all. 

Some shuffling and moving takes place, and then Bucky finds himself wrapped up in a pair of very warm arms and a blanket around them. He tries to say something, but all that comes out of his mouth is a desperate sob. 

Bucky is faintly aware of being pulled closer, if that is even possible, and he clings on while the storm is washing over him. Clint remains close the entire time, holding him together. He keeps talking to him in the low, even tone that he knows is soothing, stroking his hair and gently detangling the small knots that are still in it. 

When he is too exhausted to say anything, let alone cry more, Bucky is drifting off into sleep. 

He can feel and hear Clint’s heartbeat close to him, and it definitely helps him calm down. So does the hug, the soft touch in his hair and on his back. The deep and even breathing of Lucky by their feet and the steady purring from Alpine help just as much. 

This is his safe place, his happy place, Bucky reminds himself. He is safe and most of all loved here, and it’s okay to need help.

He clings to Clint in his sleep, and this is why he startles awake from his nightmare before the really horrible part can even start - they didn’t use the chair yet, not for its intended purpose, but his lungs are filling with water again when they put a cotton bag over his head and empty the bucket.

Bucky is screaming, and his throat is sore and painful, but he is woken up by gentle hands and a familiar voice next to his ear.

“Bucky, wake up. You are safe - breathe… In… Out… In… You’re safe, we’re home. No one is going to hurt you.” It’s a mantra he knows by heart, and yet, he needs to hear it every time.

Focusing on breathing takes up most of his attention, and after a while, his heartbeat calms down.

“Yes, just like this. You’re doing well.” 

In response, he only holds on tighter. Now that he knows he can (and should) ask for comfort or being close to the people he loves, he tries to remember it, reaching out on his own after a nightmare or whenever he needs it, really. 

There was a time when he was afraid to ask for touch, and not for reasons one would think. For most of his life, at this point, touch meant pain, humiliation or violence. It meant having to function like a machine, having his memory wiped again and again and again…

But this time is over now, thankfully so - it’s hard to shake off, still, but Bucky finds himself lucky enough with the most amazing support system. 

He’s got Steve, now like he did almost 100 years ago and he’s got the support of the other Avengers and a good therapist as well. He’s even got a wonderful partner who knows and understands him. Clint never pushes him to talk, but the offer is always there. 

When Bucky first came to the tower, he was afraid to ask for comfort or touch. He was afraid it would be denied or he’d be laughed at. Now, he knows that neither of those things will ever happen. Partially because he knows that Clint had pretty similar issues with asking for help or comfort, but the two of them also make an effort to be different than what they were taught, once upon a time. Even more so, they love each other, simple as that. Love between them is never hard and they’re always happy to spend time close to each other. Sometimes they stay at the tower for convenience, but having their own little oasis in an apartment in Brooklyn is another one of those little comforts. These days, Bucky even has a cat and his boyfriend's dog, all of whom love him. Life seems a lot more bearable this way, even on the bad days. 

With a long exhale, Bucky collects himself a bit more, slightly pulling away. He doesn’t go far though - the two of them are still touching, are still close. 

“Are you with me?” Clint asks him, gently cupping his face with one hand. Bucky nods, and shuffles closer again to press a small kiss into the exposed skin of the other man’s neck. It’s usually enough to bring the point across.

“I love you, too.”

Both of them are awake, and Bucky has the creeping suspicion that Clint didn’t sleep in the first place - he does that sometimes, staying awake just to be there in case he is needed. The fact that he kept his ears in is another indicator for this. It’s a blessing, because Bucky really, really needs this reassurance sometimes, but it’s also a curse because neither of them sleeps enough as it is. They’ve had this discussion a few times. 

“Can I ask you something?” Bucky asks after a while, and despite feeling rough and shaky, his voice doesn’t sound nearly as bad. His hands are fumbling with the fabric of Clint’s shirt, tugging lightly until his fingers come into contact with warm skin. He traces muscles and scars alike, both of which are a pattern that he knows by heart. It’s soothing and familiar. 

“Of course.” 

“Have you ever drowned?” 

The fingers in his hair still for a moment and Bucky can hear the increased speed of his partner's heartbeat. His answer, however, is completely calm.

“Yes.”

Bucky takes a deep breath, then he starts talking. He is talking about the horrors and memories that lurk in his mind. He is talking about water and fear and choking on it, again and again and again while Clint is listening in silence the whole time. He is keeping all of his attention on Bucky, and even though it is slow and halting, talking helps. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


*+~

Prompt 8/25: Water Torture

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings:  
> \- PTSD/ Flashbacks  
> \- Mental health issues  
> \- Trauma Recovery  
> \- Panic attacks  
> \- Graphic water torture / drowning  
> \- brief suicidal thoughts/wanting to die


End file.
